As They Laid Him in the Ground
by proudtobeamerican18
Summary: Many times our decisions lead to very unforeseen circumstances. Many times our mistakes lead to decisions that we would never have dreamed that we would make. But then, sometimes, the situation that we end up in was by no mistake or decision of our own. What one must do is accept everything, pick up the shattered pieces, and make them into something beautiful. May be rated M later.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story line and characters not introduced within any episodes of the show. Sue Thomas F. and all of its characters are the sole property of Pax and Pepplehut Entertainment._

_Warning for mild language._

_I realize that this story will be recognized by many of you, however, this is because it was published by CoffeeAddictedWriter without the permission of the author, me. I apologize for any confusion. If you have any questions, please just shoot me a private message or something and I will be happy to explain._

* * *

Thick snow crunched hollowly beneath him with every somber step he took, but he spared it no attention. He spared no attention for his nicest pair of shoes that were most likely going to be ruined after their trudge through the sopping wet field. He spared no attention for the uncomfortable collar and tie that seemed to become progressively tighter as he made his way to the foray of familiar faces, all clad in black. He spared no attention for the constant painful throbbing that was tearing through his skull, nor for the sharp sting of the icy wind as it attempted to freeze the tears that were silently making their way down his face.

Why the hell would he? Why the hell would those things matter?

Something in his subconscious was aware of the conversations that were growing louder as he approached, but nothing in his mind registered them. The words of anger spoken in heated tones as more and more people noticed his presence did not sink in. He was numb. Numb to everything, even as he walked on to the very front row of metal chairs and took a seat at the far end.

It was the row for the closest of family members-the row closest to the closed casket.

Had he been in a more alert state of mind, he would have realized that this would spark some conflict. However, he was not, and nor did he give a damn, at the moment. All he cared about was being as close as possible.

"Excuse me, sir," a voice said, seemingly from far away. "But this row is for family members only, and the Father of the Deceased said that you are not..."

"Leave him, Hank," another voice, female this time, intruded, sounding as though it had come from even farther away. "He is family."

He had hardly even noticed the conversation, nor the significance of it, as it had carried on. His ears heard the muffled sounds of an argument and his eyes saw the blurred forms of black and white pointing and gesturing vehemently, but his mind accepted none of it as worthy of his pondering.

He was too focused on the person that he knew was lying mere feet away from him. His mind comprehended only three facts in that moment.

His best, most beloved and trusted, long-time friend was gone. He was never going to talk, or laugh, or joke, or fight, or simply sit quietly and drink a beer with him again.

He had not seen him in over five years and not spoken to him in over three; yet, he knew that they were still best friends from a distance-it was simply understood.

His last words to him to him had been harsh and said in anger. And he had not been able to say goodbye.

All sense of pride and reservation were lost to him as his composure shattered, leaving him sobbing violently with his head pressed against his forearms that positioned themselves rigidly on his knees.

Even surrounded by people that had loved him, at a time, he had never felt so incredibly and utterly alone.

* * *

_Ok, so there is the first chapter. Please let me know what you think, even though some of you have probably already read it under CoffeeAddictedWriter's account._

_P.S.- The title is the property of the band Daughtry (I may have spelled that wrong) and any of their affiliates that may have some claim to it. It is a line from their song Open Up Your Eyes._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: __I own nothing but the story line and characters not introduced within any episodes of the show. Sue Thomas F. and all of its characters are the sole property of Pax and Pepplehut Entertainment._

* * *

Jack's eyes remained trained upon the dark mahogany casket before him, even as the service began and the respectfully subdued hubbub of the surrounding crowd began to desist. He was becoming more aware of the freezing temperatures, the bitter wind, and the dark clouds that danced menacingly over them by the second.

Somehow, it all seemed appropriate and he was grateful for the acutely uncomfortable environment. Even the heavens and earth seemed to recognize the great loss.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have gathered here today to mourn the loss of a beloved friend, brother, husband, and son."

Jack immediately knew the voice as that of Pastor Richards; he had been the pastor of Hazel Green's small-town church for as long as he could remember. Had it been twenty years or so ago, he would not have been paying a sermon a lick of attention, as a young boy. He would have been fooling around and playing, believing himself very quiet and sneaky, with the very man that now lie before him, contained in death as he never would have been in life.

Abraham. Abe, as he was more commonly known. His cousin and lifelong partner in crime and mischief, metaphorically, of course. The sound of the preacher's voice and the faces of those surrounding him brought back every memory of the man; never had he imagined that he would one day be looking back on those memories with tears of sorrow fighting to be released. Of course, not all of the memories were particularly happy; they had had their rough times as all close friends do, but even those instances had become just another thing that they had always laughed at.

Now-now every memory burned like a brand, scorching and searing his innards more painfully with every one. He felt incredibly as though a large mass had been forced down his esophagus, each breath becoming a greater struggle than the last.

He could not even remember the last words that he had said to his cousin, at present. All that he could recall was that they had been cruel, he had been angry when he said them, and that they had been entirely undeserved. He had made that mistake more times than he cared to remember since she had left. But only one had he not been able to make amends for.

"...but do not feel sadness and sorrow, my friends. Because this is a joyous occasion, though it is difficult for us to see it now." Pastor Richards' voice interrupted Jack's train of thought, yet again. "Our brother, Abraham Jackson Thomas, is now with our Heavenly Father, looking down on us...and he has brought our astray member back to us."

If Jack had not been devoting his entire attention to the reverend's words before, he certainly was now. His head snapped up of its own accord and his eyes immediately met those of the elderly man that stood upon the makeshift altar with a Bible in his hand. His mind screamed for him to be understanding and maintain his calm, but his chest fairly exploded with an anger that he knew must be visible on his features. He and Pastor Richards had certainly never seen eye-to-eye, but disrupting his cousin's funeral...? It was too much.

As the back of his neck grew hotter, Jack snatched his gaze away from Pastor Richards', lest he lose himself entirely. Instead, he sought out something else on which to gaze, anything else. However, the action only succeeded in making him even more aware of the identical stares that he was receiving from all but two members of the gathered mourners.

In an attempt to calm himself as more unwanted tears of both anger and sorrow for his lost partner sprang into his eyes, he decided to focus upon these two. The first, a middle-aged woman sitting in the second seat at the other end of the front row, he recognized as his Aunt Margaret Thomas and the defender of his current position on the Immediate Family row. The second only seemed to be refraining from glaring at him, as well, simply because her face was buried in her hands as she leaned forward onto her knees, unaware and shaking with silent sobs.

This woman, he did not recognize as any member of his family or acquaintances from his past. In fact, he did not recognize her, at all. His mind somewhat momentarily distracted from those persons surrounding him, he suddenly realized who she must be. As Aunt Maggie gently wrapped her arms around the quivering woman, it hit Jack like a ton of bricks that this must be the wife that he had never met.

"Jackson Hudson, son...," Pastor Richards was speaking again, withdrawing Jack's attention back to himself. "Would you like to say a few words in your cousin's memory and to your family and friends."

Jack was dumbfounded as all other thoughts came to a screeching halt, plastering him rigidly to his seat. When Jack did not answer after several seconds, another voice interjected.

"Get up there, son." It was Jack's father, Sam; he had not noticed that he was sitting directly behind him. "You owe him that much, at least."

Acting as though his father had never spoken, though the truthfulness of his words hit him with a full force, Jack's eyes instead returned to his Aunt Maggie's, to find that she was staring back at him, now.

Her gaze was not of anger or resentment, but of sorrow and pleading that wrenched at his heart. Quickly coming to his resolve, Jack rose from his seat and received the place at the center of the altar with as much grace as possible.

"Abe was my best friend," Jack stammered slightly as he began his speech, but pulled his focus solely upon the only sincere face in the moderate crowd to calm himself. "We grew up together; I knew him all of my life and no one, anywhere, could have asked for a better man than Abraham. Abe was a very kind person, understanding and always there anytime anyone ever needed a helping hand or just an open ear."

Jack could see the tears beginning to form in his Aunt Maggie's eyes as he spoke, making it even more difficult to keep the thickness of his tears from his voice. "He...he loved everyone. Even the people that no one else could stand to be around, or he had every right to hate. It's...," Jack struggled, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. "Sometimes it's impossible to r-really describe just how you feel about people. I can't think of-of any way to illustrate just how much I loved the man, or how much he meant to me. All I can say..."

Jack's mind froze suddenly, his sentence caught in his throat as he became miserably aware of the gazes of loathing and judgement that he was receiving from all directions. But that misery soon turned to anger, again, as the man that he had been sitting next to snorted audibly in hateful disdain. That man was Sammy. His brother.

"All I can say is that Abraham Jackson Thomas was the kind of friend, and man, that anyone lucky enough to call him 'friend' held closer than a brother," Jack finished with a renewed determination, trying and failing to reign in words that had been battling to be let loosed. "He was the kind of man that deserved every kind of happiness in the world, and a hell of a lot better friend than I managed to be. And he was the kind of man that deserves to be respected at his funeral, not overshadowed by a family rift."

Jack had not realized that he was breathing so heavily, nor that his heart was racing painfully, until he returned his attention, yet again, to the minister that stood lingering behind him.

"Pastor Richards," Jack ground out quietly to the man that met his gaze with indignation. "Would you please do my cousin Abe the honor of carrying on with his Departing Service in a way that respects the man that he was, so that he may truly rest in the peace that he deserves."

It was not a request. It was a command.

Not waiting for any form of a reply, Jack turned and made his way off of the alter. However, instead of returning to his seat, he proceeded silently to the opposite end.

"Please believe me when I say that I truly am sorry, with everything in me, Aunt Maggie," he pleaded, grasping his aunt's shoulder bracingly and leaning down to speak where he could be certain that only she could hear. "I swear th-that I never meant to hurt anyone."

He could never describe the immense gratefulness that overcame him when she answered with a kiss on his cheek and whispered, "Please, don't leave yet."

With a nod, Jack stood to go and await his aunt, but his conscience tugged at him as he passed the young woman next to her. Abe's wife still sat sobbing quietly, her face hidden from view and the remains of what must have been a respectable and conservative bun falling down in unruly waves, serving as a curtain to offer her what privacy it could in the crowd. This poor woman, whomever she may be, did not deserve to be shoved in the same category as the rest. For Abe to have married her, there must have been a lot about her to have earned respect. He would behave accordingly.

"Ma'am," Jack whispered awkwardly, placing an unsure hand on her shoulder. She did not raise her head, but only nodded softly several times. "I am so sorry, for your loss and my own stupidity. I hope that one day you can forgive me."

Jack wiped roughly at his tears as he strode slowly back to the cemetery driveway and his car, angry with himself for allowing them and his temper to escape his grasp in the first place. There he had stood, preaching what he was not practicing. Yes, it had been in pure defense of Abe's honor, but it had been disrespectful all the same. No matter if he was chastising his family and their friends for disrespecting the memory of the man that they had all lost, he had still lost his temper and, in the end, only caused further distraction.

Damn it, why couldn't he just hold his tongue!

As he reached his black sedan, he could hear the verses of _Amazing Grace _floating through the bitter wind and pulled his collar up against it. The service had ensued. Properly.

"Dear God, please forgive me," Jack muttered darkly to himself, turning on the ball of one foot to kick his front tire with the other. "Abe, I'm so sorry, man."

As his anger and frustration began to subside, Jack's primary emotion of sorrow returned full-force and, with it, the sincerest of regrets. His temper had gotten the better of him and both his aunt and Abe's wife had suffered from it. Just the knowledge that those gathered had turned it from a funeral to a focus group on how much they now hated Jack had to have been difficult enough; he had only made things worse.

Leaning against the car, Jack hardly noticed when it began to snow light flurries.

"Ashes to ashes and dust to dust." Jack could hear the closing words of goodbye over the gathering wind.

After several minutes of silent contemplation and saying his own goodbye by way of prayer, Jack chanced a look behind him and back to where the funeral home tent stood. He made out the two figures of his Aunt Maggie and Abe's wife; standing near them was his brother Sammy and uncle, but there was an obvious distance between them. Perhaps he was still angry because Maggie had allowed him to stay.

The rest of those gathered, however, began making their way towards the cemetery driveway to their own vehicles. Receiving more looks of disgust and judgement than he cared to count or pay any mind, Jack determined that he would simply ignore them. He would not make things even worse; it would only cause more grief and satisfy them.

When only the four lone forms remained by the casket, Jack decided to head over and pay his respects, properly. He suspected that his brother and uncle would not be happy, but he was used to ignoring his brother in all of his pompous glory, and was willing to risk his uncle.

As he drew closer, he watched as the young woman parted from the group and slowly made her way to the tree line of the surrounding woods, obviously in want of privacy. Apparently, his brother did not pick up on that little detail; almost immediately, he followed their cousin-in-law.

"I'll be waiting for you two at the truck," the voice of Jack's uncle disrupted his observation, pulling his attention back to his aunt that still stood a few yards away.

Everett Thomas brushed by him without a word or a glance, but Jack's focus had been on his aunt's face, streaked with hot tears.

"Don't pay him any mind, Jack," she said without turning, her gaze on her only son's coffin. "He's hurting, right now, but he'll come around."

"Is he mad about everything that happened with my mom, or about Abe?"

"A little bit of both. I think seeing you at Abe's funeral just reopened old wounds."

Jack stopped himself from cursing lowly, feeling much like the young boy that she would have threatened to beat into next week many years ago. As a boy, it had threatened him and commanded respectfulness; when she said it to him as an adult, it had humored him and commanded respectfulness.

"And how are you doing?" Jack asked, changing the subject.

"Me?" Maggie answered, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around her nephew's waist. "I'm just glad that I know where he's going."

But Jack knew that there was much more to it and wrapped both arms around the woman that had been his favorite relative since childhood. Relenting, his aunt showed once of her rarely seen moments of weakness and cried harshly into his shoulder.

"I'm going to miss him, too, Aunt Mag," Jack whispered, kissing her gray hair and patting her back gently.

"He was the best son," she shuddered, almost imperceptibly, but Jack noticed it. "So loving. Ever since he moved away, he called me every night and..."

"He loved you, the big Momma's-boy," Jack replied when she left her sentence incomplete, the small smile that escaped him bittersweet.

Maggie nodded her head and dabbed at her eyes and nose with her handkerchief, straightening up and composing herself and Jack released her. She was herself again, for now, anyways. Jack shuddered to imagine how she had first taken it when she found out.

"Mostly, I worry about her," his aunt continued, nodding towards some point behind Jack.

Turning his gaze in that direction, he saw Abe's wife walking slowly, and Sammy at her side. He did not know if he felt more annoyed or amused when he noticed that she seemed to be trying to avoid him. He watched as Sammy kept reaching for her and she kept subtly turning away and walking in the other direction.

"She's such a sweet girl and she's taking it very hard," Maggie went on, watching the display, as well. The expression on her face was one of annoyance. "I always thought that Sammy had a bit of a crush on her, but ever since last week he's been trying to _comfort _her. I think he believes that he can win her over, but she's much to smart for him."

"Sammy always did like pretty blondes," Jack agreed, his own annoyance with his elder brother growing as he watched him follow his cousin's wife like a hawk stalking its prey. "No matter the circumstances."

Maggie nodded her head. "But you would think that he would at least have sense enough to leave her alone at her husband's funeral."

Jack inwardly scoffed. His brother didn't have sense enough to leave married women alone, let alone newly widowed ones. He decided not to speak this sentiment aloud.

"You would never believe how in love with her Abe was," Maggie carried on with a small laugh, dabbing her eyes again. "You know how shy he was about that kind of thing; he would never talk about his relationships. But, when he told his father and I that he intended to marry her, we knew that he must love her. He positively doted on that young woman."

"What's her name?" Jack asked, realizing painfully that he did not even know that small fact about his cousin's wife.

Maggie gave another small laugh, but there was a glimmer of real humor in it, this time. "Would you believe that I don't actually remember? We always called her Captain. Only the good Lord knows why. But why don't you go and ask her for yourself? Abe always did want you to meet her and she looks like she could use a bit of help."

The smile disappeared from Jack's lips as his thoughts returned, yet again, to Abe.

"Aunt Maggie, I hope you know that I really did want to..."

"Hush, boy," she quieted him, but patted his arm affectionately. "Abe openly considered you his best friend until his dying day, and no member of this crazy family was able to change that. Why are boys so stupid that they think one fight breaks up a friendship forever? And grown men aren't much better!"

Jack smiled again, satisfied that he need not explain himself to her, even if she did rant about the stupidity of men.

"I still wish that I was able to tell him the same," Jack admitted, running a hand over the glossy wooden surface.

"Aunt Maggie," Jack answered after several moments of revered silence, brushing the unbidden tears from his cold face and sniffing. "Whose staying to oversee the burial?"

"Your brother was going to."

"May I, instead?"

"I think that'd be best. You and Abe to have a nice long chat."

Kissing her forehead, he said his goodbye and started towards the two that were still caught in an annoying game of cat and mouse by the tree line. Jack knew that Sammy would not be please at being replaced, but he really could not care less.

As he drew closer to the two, his annoyance quickly peaked to something closer to anger. Apparently, he was walking into the middle of a heated argument. The young woman's hair had completely fallen about her shoulders, now, and her back was turned to them both, her stance rigid.

Sammy's hand moved, yet again, to her lower back and she jerked away.

"No!" Jack heard her ground out, but she did not give Sammy the satisfaction of turning towards him.

"Sammy, leave her alone."

He had obviously taken his brother by surprise. His hand dropped immediately from his next attempt to rest it on her back and he turned like a guilty thief in a bank.

"Jack, get the hell out of here," he spat, seeing who it was.

"What? You don't want witnesses to see you hitting on your cousin's widow?"

Swearing terribly, Sammy made a rude gesture and left, admitting defeat, as Jack knew without a doubt that he would. Taking a deep breath of icy air to calm his nerves, Jack stepped forward. Her back was still to him, but he noted that it shook ever so slightly.

Unsure of what to say to comfort her, Jack wondered if he should just leave her to her privacy. But no, this would probably be the only opportunity he would ever have to meet Abe's wife and he would not disappoint Abe in death, too.

"Ma'am?" Jack began cautiously, uncertain of how close he should even stand. "Uh...my name is Jack Hudson. I'm...well, 'was', that is...ah, Abe's cousin. We grew up together...but I bet you know that, already."

The woman still had not turned and Jack began to worry that he was offending her. Walking to the side, but maintaining a respectful distance, he rounded her to try and gage her reaction to his pathetic attempt at an introduction.

"Look, I know that you've never met me," Jack went on, trying to smooth things over. "But..."

His sentence dropped in a split second and something closely akin to nausea overcame him. Someone must have kicked him in the stomach, or either the head. For several seconds, he could not remember where he was or the present circumstances.

Only when he finally realized that the woman seemed to feel precisely the same did he speak.

"Sue?" he choked out.

"Jack," she breathed, putting a hand on a nearby tree to support herself. She recovered herself first. "What are you doing here?"

"This is where I'm from," Jack answered, his mind completely gone as memories that he had been forcing away from the surface for years rushed in on him. He no longer remembered where he was or why. He could not even recall the conversation with his aunt only minutes ago, or the significance of who the young blonde woman in the knee length black dress was. After several moments of labored breathing and struggling to maintain himself, he found some semblance of composure. "I..I'm here for my cousin's funeral. Why are you here?"

Sue did not reply for nearly a minute. But, finally she swallowed painfully and met Jack's eyes with a teary resolve.

"I'm burying my husband."

* * *

_By the way, I have never been to Hazel Green, Wisconsin, so I know nothing about it. I only heard of it. If any details are inaccurate, please know that no offense was intended._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story line and characters not introduced within any episodes of the show. Sue Thomas F. and all of its characters are the sole property of Pax and Pepplehut Entertainment._

_Oh, yes, and memories are written in plain __italics__. By the way, something was brought to my attention that I feel I need to clarify so that I don't have an angry mob after me—this is most definitely not an AU story and it is a Jack and Sue story. Just bear with me, please. :) This chapter will explain a lot and then we can move on past "setting the scene", shall we say?_

_But, anywhoo, on to Chapter 3._

* * *

Pulling the keys from the ignition, Sue leaned back into the firm seat, unwilling to leave the warm car just yet. Her mind had been reeling during her entire flight and the following hour long drive home from the Columbia airport, sending her emotions into a tailspin of silent numbness and hysterical weeping.

Jack. Why Jack? How could she have never known that Jack was Abe's cousin? He was her husband, for goodness sake! This was just too much of a coincidence for her to believe. Gritting her teeth to force the tears to subside, Sue calmed herself. Looking past her window, she gazed upon the familiar sight of the house that she and Abe had shared. Home.

It had been nearly four years since she had been transferred to the Aiken, SC satellite F.B.I. office. To be quite honest, it had felt like a significant demotion, to take her away from her life in D.C. and plant her into a small town in a part of the country that she had never been to in her entire life. At first, they had showed the courtesy of asking her if she would take the transfer; however, upon her polite refusal, the higher-ups had reminded her of the mobility contract that she had signed when she first took the job. Needless to say, she was transferred, despite her wishes and those of her team. It was, perhaps, made all the worse by coming about only two months and some odd days after she had refused the transfer to the New York office. Perhaps she had unknowingly offended someone?

Very little occurred in Aiken and rarely did a F.B.I. case go unsolved for over a week or two, leaving Sue with next to nothing to distract her from how much she missed Washington and her team—until she had met Abraham Thomas.

Wiping a stray tear from her eye, Sue released her safety belt and stepped out of the car, pulling her coat more tightly about her. It was not particularly cold in comparison to what she was used to, but it was comforting, all the same. Removing the leather duffle bag from her trunk and hitching it onto her shoulder, she made her way to the neighbor's house.

"Sue, my sweet dear!" exclaimed her middle-aged neighbor when she answered the doorbell, pulling Sue into an overly sympathetic hug. The rest of her overwhelming welcome was lost on Sue as her lips left her line of vision, but she knew that the woman was carrying on by the way her chin bobbed up and down against her shoulder.

"Hi, Martha," Sue greeted quietly, patting the woman's back lightly. "How are you?"

"How am I? Tsk," Martha replied, taking Sue's face in her cold hands, oblivious to the fact that her rambling was doing more harm than good, despite her sweet intentions. In an effort to maintain herself, Sue focused a little more than necessary on reading her lips. "I should be asking you that, sweetie. Oh, I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. Abe was always such a kindly man, mowing the yard for me, and such. I'm gonna miss him, I can tell you that much."

Sue forced a small smile and nodded her head shortly, glad that she had braced herself for this. As much as she wished that she could just collect Levi and the mail, she would not be rude, especially to the kind woman that had offered to look after her house in her absence.

"...but never mind that, now; there's plenty of time to deal with that later on," Martha was saying, bringing Sue out of her thoughts when she touched her arm. "I bet that you want to see that sweet dog of yours! He's been positively pathetic ever since you left him here, poor thing. But, I hear that dogs can sense when things are wrong and their master is dead, and such. Sweet Levi must be in mourning, too. But let's not stand out here in the cold! Come in, come in!"

Sue followed Martha inside and was almost immediately shoved against the wall of the hallway, instantly covered in sticky slobber as Levi greeted her with the utmost enthusiasm. Instinctually, she began to fend him off, but then relented. She could not resist the simple adoration of a loyal dog happy to see its owner, especially not Levi. Sinking down to sit on the polished hardwood floor, Sue smiled widely for what seemed like the first time in years.

"Thank you so much for taking care of him, Martha," Sue said, looking up to see her reply as Levi lost himself in his happiness and crawled into her lap, seemingly unaware of the fact that he was no lap dog. "You'll never know how much help it was for you to take him and keep up with the mail."

Martha brushed off her thanks with a wave, grinning. "Oh, he's a joy. And let me go get your mail. I hope you don't mind, but I organized it into piles according to the nature of the correspondence." She disappeared into the kitchen off of the hallway for a moment and then returned, brandishing several piles in turn. "A whole pile of junk mail, sales papers and what have you; four letters that look like bills. Sixteen handwritten letters aaand...one letter from your job. Oh, yes, and I hope you don't mind, but I borrowed your Better Homes and Garden magazine; you know me, I just couldn't resist."

"No, not at all," Sue assured her, taking the pile of paper into her arms. "And, again, thank you so much."

"None of that, please," Martha reprimanded good-naturedly, patting Sue's shoulder. "It was nothing, at all." She reached into her green trouser pocket and pulled out a key, handing it to Sue. "Now, I just watered your plants this morning, so don't worry about that. And, I hope you don't mind, but I just left a chicken casserole on your stove just before you got back, so it should still be hot."

Sue nodded her understanding, struggling to keep up with the woman's long-winded one-sided conversation, but only catching some few key words. In all honesty, as kind as Martha was for all that she had done for her, and though she deeply appreciated it, the attention was overwhelming. She had never been able to handle sympathy well, especially from those that she would much rather not see her cry.

"And you make _sure_," Martha emphasized the word with a point of the finger, walking Sue down the brick porch steps and across to her own driveway, with Levi walking obediently in tow. "That you let me know if you need anything, anything, at all. When Guy died, my friends and the good Lord were the only things that got me through it. Now, just know that I'm only a phone call or few yards away, day or night. Trust me. It's never good to cry alone. What you need is good, old-fashioned, companionship to keep you from getting di-pressed, or whatever it is that they call it."

"Yes, ma'am," Sue answered her, now feeling rather desperate to distance herself and find some solitude. "Thank you and I'll see you in the morning."

Martha nodded. "Alright, bye, now. Try and rest; it doesn't help to dwell on things."

Sue nodded again, letting Levi in before her and then closing the front door with a snap. The papers in her arms immediately dropped to the tiled floor. Leaning against the door and sinking down to the floor, Sue could hold it in no longer. The tears poured forth and she had no control over them; an agonizingly sharp pain stung in her chest, tearing a new hole in her heart with every heaving sob. Unable to breathe or think of anything beyond the torture of her previous loss, it only got worse when the image of Jack's face, pained and confused, from yesterday crossed her mind. Now, not only did she suffer terribly from losing Abe, but now the guilt that she felt for both Abe and Jack's sakes brought on an entirely new form of pain.

Sometime later, though she could not begin to image how long, Sue pulled herself away from the floor. She had cried herself dry, nearly falling asleep on the hall rug with Levi faithfully licking and pawing her hands as though trying to help an inner wound the way he would an outer one.

Head throbbing and breath coming in thick gulps, Sue wiped at her eyes before stooping down to collect the discarded mail. Moving into the large kitchen off of the hallway, Sue dropped the large stack onto the counter and leaned against it.

Everything was exactly how she had left it, save for a vase of withering flowers that she supposed Martha had left in the window sill and the casserole dish covered in aluminum foil that sat atop the stove. Stepping forward, Sue peeled the foil away a bit, more out of a need to do something rather than hunger—until the nausea in her stomach quickly reminded of why she had not eaten more than a couple of bites of toast in the past few days.

Feeling sick, yet again, Sue passed through the large kitchen to a side door that lead into the large living room and then trudged up the stairs slowly. The upstairs hallway was simply another struggle as visions of Abe invaded her imagination.

One moment she could see Abe walking down the hallway in the baseball uniform for their church's team, then the next Abe hiding behind the door of the linen closet to jump out and scare her. She could almost feel his arms around her, his lips on hers, and the customary shadow of guilt that had always fallen over her when Abe would unexpectedly scoop her up then carry her down the hallway, kissing her sweetly.

That was it—her body somehow mustered up a few more tears to slide down her cheeks as she slowly stepped forward, her eyes trained on the very last doorway on the left. There was a small comfort in the feeling of Levi brushing up against her right leg as she walked, but the dread was still welling up inside of her. And then, suddenly, the room was within her view…new visions invaded her mind and she leaned against the doorway for support.

There was Abe, walking out of their master bathroom with a towel around his waist and one wrapped around his head needlessly, trying to make her laugh. Then he materialized across the room at the door of their walk-in closet, adjusting his tie in the mirror. The visions were torturous, especially when her imagination seemed to project even her, walking up behind him to tuck in the back of his shirt properly.

Sue stepped into the room and walked through the open door of the closet. On one side hung her clothes and on the other were his, suddenly a daunting image. Reaching forward, she brushed her knuckles against the cuff of one of his Oxford shirts that he wore to work, always complaining about the policy that "professors are supposedly supposed to look professional." The crisp material felt rough against her skin as she ran it down the line of clothes, catching the faintest scent of his cologne that still clung to his clothing, despite multiple washings. Each and every piece she had washed, dried, and ironed for him at one point or another, just he had for her, depending who was in a bigger hurry, or the more stressed of the two—which was usually her.

Sue pulled her hand away quickly, brushed the tears from her cheeks, and crossed her arms over her chest. Abe had always been calm; he was never stressed about anything. In every situation, he had always been the sweetest, calmest, and most understanding man that she had ever known. It had annoyed her to a degree, at first. Why could he not lose his temper or get frustrated with her sometimes like Jack had? It had always caused her to stop and think, even if she knew all along that she was going to be stubborn anyways. But, she had eventually come to the conclusion that she could hardly fault her husband for being kind and understanding, no matter how much worse it made her feel about herself and the inner turmoil that had kept creeping into her subconscious almost since the day that she had met him.

* * *

_Ok, this one is the first half of what I had originally intended for the chapter, but I hate when chapters are too long. I always feel that they tend to become jumbled to read and write. But, the second half will be up very soon and more will be explained._

_Thanks to everyone reading for their patience and, I promise, that after this next chapter, things will pick up the pace and we'll get to the better stuff. As always, I would really love to know what anyone thinks and feedback is always very thought provoking and helps me get a better idea of what all I need to include or offer further explanation for. Thanks!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: As per usual, I own nothing but the characters that are not recognizable from the show, the plot, and any stupid errors—the rest unfortunately belongs to Pax and Pebblehut. :(_

_Zoja and Barbara, thanks so much for the reviews! Precisely the kind of things that I now know that need more clearing up pretty soon. And thanks to anyone else that has read!_

* * *

The sudden wet warmth that brushed across her face woke Sue with a start to see Levi mere inches from her face. Blinking slightly to clear her murky mind, she sat up and pulled her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Need to go outside?" Sue asked Levi offhandedly as he was darting between her and the bedroom door.

Running a hand through her messed and tangled hair, Sue tugged lightly at the long Oxford shirt so that it covered her upper legs as a nightgown would. It was lucky that Abe was taller than her or…. Abe. Reality came rushing back at her like a hurricane and the doorknob in her hand immediately became a small support ledge to keep her legs from falling from beneath her.

Abe. The semi-truck. The crashing and slamming. The hands pushing against her and holding her firm. The funeral. The closed casket. Her imagination forming horrible images against her will. Her inability to speak at the funeral because she just could not pull herself together. Her precious mother-in-law. Sammy. And then Jack.

Overwhelmed and suffocating, she sent up a silent prayer and swiftly swung the door open and passed through it into the hallway before she lost her nerve. Levi led the way to where the stairs began halfway down the hall. Forcing her eyes to focus on on him, Sue made her way past the closets, the offices, the bathroom, laundry baskets, and empty guest rooms that had never been filled. Descending the stairs, her tactic was similar, until they reached the door and she stood behind it discreetly when she opened it for Levi to avoid any neighbors seeing her in her makeshift pajamas.

Closing the door to the fenced in back yard, Sue turned a little too quickly and had to lean against the door again. It seemed that she had had to do this far too much lately. Her eyed closed firmly, she struggled to force away what she knew was surrounding her. She tried to imagine rural country roads, historical markers, and small town festivals. She tried to imagine work, her desk in her office, her assistant and interpreter. She tried to imagine the B&B in the mountains that they had stayed in. But even these images did nothing but remind her of him.

Shoving everything aside, numbing herself to everything around her, Sue walked into the kitchen, subconsciously trying to find something to distract herself. Opening the fridge, she noticed that Martha had left her mark even there. There were fresh apples laying in the bottom, another large covered casserole dish, a loaf of bread, two jars of homemade jam and Sue did not even attempt to focus on the contents of the rest. She simply was not hungry, but the new gallon of milk did seem harmless enough and she supposed that she should have something on her stomach.

Pouring herself a glass, her motor functions almost seeming to be on auto pilot, Sue took a small sip to test her stomach before taking a larger one. Her bare feet and legs were freezing, but only a small part of her brain took notice of it and she sought out something else to do.

Spotting the mail that she had tossed aside yesterday, she managed to make herself feel slightly interested. Browsing through it, she tossed the sales papers into the trash can and then read the names of the senders on the remaining envelopes. Setting aside the bills, she counted through more handwritten letters than she had ever seen in her life. Vaguely recalling Martha's lips saying something about a letter from work, she searched through and found it—the personal letters would have to wait until she could better handle them.

Tearing open the envelope, she took another experimental sip of her milk, brushed her tangled hair from her eyes, and leaned against the counter to read something distracting. Something to focus on.

It was obvious that very little time and consideration had actually been invested in the letter as it was short and to the point.

_Dear Mrs. Thomas,_

_Firstly, the Federal Bureau of Investigation wishes to offer you our sincerest condolences for the recent loss of your husband_, _Abraham Thomas. In light of this recent development, you are being transferred in order replace you nearer to those that our records indicate are your closest of kin. You will be given one week to get your affairs in order and relocate._

_You are being transferred to the F.B.I. Headquarters in Washington D.C. to be reincorporated into the same team in which you were trained._

_Sincerely,_

_F.B.I. Human Resources Department_

The letter fell from her hands to the floor as Sue turned to the sink behind her, nausea suddenly overtaking her.

Jack. Lucy. Tara. Bobby. Myles. Demetrius. All of the faces that she held so dear to her heart and had longed to see for so long ran through her mind, making her dizzy. Dear God, how could she go back to them after so long—how could she possibly explain herself—especially now?

After several moments, Sue collected herself. Pulling forth the resolute mask of indifference, she forced all thought away and moved quickly back through the living room, up the stairs, and to their…her…bedroom, nearly falling over as she stumbled. Yanking the closet door loose, anger, fear, and agonizing sorrow overwhelming her, she snatched up a pair of blue jeans and pulled them on, nearly falling. Snatching a sweater violently from its hanger, she replaced her pajamas with it as quickly as she could, throwing the crisp Oxford shirt and the old and frayed hockey jersey to the closet floor in a heap.

* * *

_Ok, shorter than the last, but I decided to ahead and get things going sooner because I think that I can explain things better this way. As always, would love to know what you think and thank you for reading._


End file.
